Impressions
by Jillie Rose
Summary: They can be misleading, first impressions.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's painfully obvious I don't own anyone here. So please, be kind. Don't sue, don't flame, don't stand in the rain.

Well you can stand in the rain if you wish, but whatever.

This is my first foray into the SW universe. Go me. Tell me if it sucks. 

She was so…little, he mused. Really…well…small. Tiny. Petite. All those other words in the thesaurus he didn't have.

It didn't always seem so though. When she was angry or when she was speaking, the world filled up with her presence and she seemed tall, larger than life. She looked physically up at just about everyone. But he wondered if anyone noticed that.

He reckoned those billowy white bedsheets she called clothes probably helped though. That and the haughtiness. Makes you seem bigger. Like fluffed-up fur made animals seem bigger, demeanour enlarged you.

That, he supposed, and sitting down a lot. Him sitting down, not her.

But appearances are often deceptive.

It would appear, if you went by bald and basic first impressions, that he disliked her, and she him. That they had nothing in common. That they were wary of each other…

Well, maybe the wary part was true, but still. How could people who were so sarcastic towards each other have any kind of connection?

That's the thing about life, he concluded. You never can tell. Take a second impression and you'd see something a little bit off about your first. Like…there was a line there. It was unspoken, unnoticed, but it was there. Every time they pushed towards the line one of them would call a halt. There were some wounds that just wouldn't heal.

But they still pushed, a little. Edging towards that point where one of them would really lose it and leave.

It had come, once, but things never work out the way you plan them. Leaving was the intention. Not the outcome. And once they had figured out what was really going on, (the third impression) and that this spark was the palpable tension, something more? It all went wrong and they got separated.

But the story never ends there. Not the good stories anyway. And she came. And she saved him.

Maybe, in a way, she'd spent their whole time together saving him. If she, the one who cared, wouldn't push his boundaries and his expectations, then who would?

She was so little. So tiny. So tough and yet so fragile underneath it all. The side that she tried not to show tended to shine through. At least to him. The fourth impression.

Every time he saw her he was struck anew. How small she was, how frail. But in her heart lived the spirit of a fighter. The fifth impression.

And every day, there was a new impression. Moment by moment they both changed.

And right until the last impression…he loved her.


	2. Chapter 2

Impressions Chapter Two:

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Zippity squat.

He was…tall.

This seemed to be a silly thing to say. Of course he wasn't tall compared to some of the people she had met. It was an absurd observation. But still…he didn't seem so. Tall, that is.

Until he was right there, right in front of her, just inches away. Breathing her air. Invading her space.

There had always been tension. Always they had danced around each other, neither quite prepared to say what they thought.

These were dangerous times. Especially for people such as they were to get together. And he…

He had the nerve to play it up! He had the nerve, the cheek, to flirt and tease…she did not just say flirt. That was a bad word to use. Deny. Deny deny deny.

Phew. That was a close one. Change the subject.

She was cold.

And…it always, without fail, made her think of him.

Dang it.

First, he had made her cold…but that wasn't fair. Life had made her cold. The Rebellion and the Empire had made her cold.

But she was more than cold to him. She was…glacial. Icy. And then sometimes…she was aflame.

He teased her. He made her happy and sad and furious and scared in the space of one sentence, and he did it without any apparent effort. The first impression. Bad news.

But then…someone who risked all to help a friend. The second impression.

The second reason he reminded her of the cold because of all the time spent on a cold planet. Swaddled in layers and layers of clothing. She was all in white, like an angel. Or a snowman. Or an ice maiden.

But then…then there was that moment. Far from the ice. When he touched her she had lashed out. Habit. She didn't like to be touched. Ice princess again, she supposed. Protecting herself by hiding her insecurities away.

He looked a little hurt, but she supposed he was used to it. And he called her 'Your Worship'.

But then when she snapped at him, he acquiesced to her "Would you stop_ calling_ me that?" by calling her by her name. The name she so longed to hear. But…

That ticked her off. What right did he have to _listen to _and _agree to_ her requests? What gave him the right to use her name?

He made it so difficult sometimes. And she told him so.

"You could be a little nicer though." No, she had thought. I can't be a little nicer. You're charming me and I can feel it. You're getting through my defences. You're breaking down my walls. And I'm letting you.

She was shaking, shivering, trembling.

And the third reason?

Every time it was cold she thought of him because every time they were together he would end up giving her clothes.

More lending, really. If she shivered he would pull off a jumper of a jacket and proffer it to her without even a word. Neither made a big thing of it, not any more. She just whispered, 'Thank you' and life went on.

And she would always get it cleaned and folded and would always return it to him, because that was how it worked, wasn't it? That was polite. That was the kind of thing someone like her did.

And she felt safe. Every time she was drowning in something of his, always too big for her, she felt safe. Nothing could touch her. The cold was banished. And she was warm.

Enough impressions taken. Enough barriers broken down.

Because when you're bearing his children and attending to the affairs of the Galaxy, there's no more time for impressions.

Not until you stop. Because it's only then that you realise how much you've changed. And how little that matters.

And the most lasting impression?

The little voice at the back of your head.

Even if you can't see him, even if he can't be there…He'll always keep you warm.

Please review and tell me how this chapter turned out. A little different to the first, but inspiration struck. So hard I think I might have concussion.


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